


Residual Traces

by earlyasphalt



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Anal, Anal Fingering, Anxiety, Chicago Blackhawks, Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-12
Updated: 2017-06-12
Packaged: 2018-11-13 01:43:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,339
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11174412
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/earlyasphalt/pseuds/earlyasphalt
Summary: Scott's anxiety is bad, and he desperately needs a distraction.That distraction's name? Corey Crawford.





	Residual Traces

Scott knows he’s starting tonight.

 

He can feel it - Corey’s not had a great run the last few weeks, letting in terrible goals that he has no goddamn reason to let in, and he needs a break. The team needs the boost of a win, and Corey needs a break like nothing else.

 

Scott’s done this before. He’s been to the big show, he’s started in Corey’s absence and in his low points, even held the team together during a cup run.

 

But today, Scott’s anxiety is creeping up on him. A looming black dog in his rear view mirror; a sense that his shadow is following him making his stomach grip tight and hard. His heart rate is astronomical and he feels like he’s drowning, like a fish out of water gasping as it suffocates on the shore.

 

For years, Scott has been in control. Gave up drinking, started taking care of himself, started getting the fuck on with his life and pushing forward. Scott is not his anxiety, he is more than that, he pushed and pushed against it until one day he was strong enough to push it back. Pushing takes a lot of energy, and sometimes no amount of pushing will force it back. Today, Scott cannot force it back.

 

Scott is brought back to reality with a brutal crash; Coach Q taps his shins and says the words out loud - you start tonight, Scotty. He smiles and says sure, let’s do it. Scott just needs to make it through practice, he can do that. He can play hockey, that’s what he’s good at, he can do it.

 

 

He makes it through practice barely, but it’s obvious something isn’t right with him. Johnny asks him a few times if he’s doing ok, like the concerned captain he is, quietly and away from everyone else. Scott shrugs and smiles, he’s fine! Everything’s ok, he’s great - is he talking to quickly? His anxiety makes him talk quickly; he makes a concerted effort to slow slow slow the words down, smile broader, punctuate the words. Johnny doesn’t buy a goddamn thing, and reminds Scott he’s there if he wants to talk. 

 

Scott can feel Corey’s eyes burning holes in him throughout practice. He tries to ignore it, but it’s difficult. He can put effort into controlling his anxiety, playing hockey or ignoring Corey, not all three.

 

“Scott,” he hears as he’s walking into the dressing room, “wait.”

 

Corey. Oh goddammit. Ok. Breathe. Smile. Everything’s ok.

 

“Hey,” Scott smiles, “what’s up?”

 

“What’s with you today, man?” There’s no-one else in the corridor and Corey is almost too close to him - Scott can see his long eyelashes, the worry lines forming at the edges of his eyes and his tight lips.

 

“What? Nothing, I’m fine, nothing’s-“

 

“Don’t lie to me.” Corey speaks low and deliberate. Scott forgets how intimately Corey knows him sometimes. They’ve been close since Scott was brought up from Rockford. Closer than close on a few occasions, where they established that neither wanted anything serious, but fucking is always fun. 

 

“I’m fine, Corey,” Scott says, trying to look him in the eyes and smile, but he’s aware of how fake the smile looks.

 

“Is it your anxiety?”

He had told Corey about his anxiety once early on in their friendship, when he was sure the intimate details of the lies and irrational fears his brain concocts would terrify Corey into staying away from him, but his friend had taken it in his stride and offered to help if he could. Scott wasn’t sure how he could help, but he appreciated Corey not running away.

 

“I’m fine, honestly. I’m just nervous.”

 

“You’ve barely spoken all morning and you’re avoiding me. I know this isn’t about your start. What’s wrong?”

 

How do you tell someone you’re drowning in anxiety but you don’t know where it’s coming from, Scott wonders. He’s not enjoying being confronted on this. 

 

“I…I’m ok Corey, I’m fine.”

 

Corey sighs, looks away. “Look I can’t force you to tell me,” he’s concerned, Scott can hear it in his voice, “but if you want to talk to someone about this, will you call me?”

 

“Yeah.” Scott stutters.

 

Corey trails his hand up Scott’s forearm to his bicep slowly, and squeezes it, smiling. He walks away, leaving Scott alone in the hallway.

 

His anxiety tells him not to call Corey, but he wants to. He isn’t sure how to say any of this out loud.

 

 

 

Being alone in his apartment makes it worse, so he tries to nap. Sleeping staves the anxiety’s crashing waves of gripping panic off for less than an hour, and it frustrates him. Lying in bed, he can see his phone lighting up on the dresser.

 

_U ok?_ \- it’s from Corey. He’s tempted to text back something along the lines of _haha no my anxiety is making me feel like I’m drowning under a waterfall but apart from that really having a great day!!_ but he’s not sure how helpful that is.

 

Instead, he just bashes out a quick and thoughtless response: _yep_

 

The response comes quickly: _will some nudes make u feel better_

 

Scott laughs, _haha you could try_

 

He gets it. Corey is trying to lighten the mood. He’d already tried the “I am your serious friend and I am seriously worried” angle, now it was time to be goofy. Scott appreciates it.

 

_(‿ˠ‿)_

 

_wtf is that supposed to be?_ Scott responds

 

_it’s my bubble butt you asshole_

 

Scott laughs as another text comes through.

 

_u decent?_

 

_yep_ , he responds.

 

Scott’s phone rings - Corey’s Facetiming him. He answers.

 

“Hey Scotty,” Corey’s smiling; he doesn’t seem as mad as he was earlier.

 

“Hey yourself. What’s up?” Scott props himself up on pillows; he’d rather Corey didn’t take screenshots of him with five double chins while lying in an odd position on his bed.

 

“Checking in on you, Scotty.”

 

“You…you don't have to do that. C’mon.”

 

“Well,” Corey’s still smiling, “I’m allowed to be worried about you. Especially if you’re starting for me tonight. Can't have you playing as bad as I am.”

 

“Oh shut up, Crow.”  


“I’m serious!” Corey laughs, “It’s difficult but not impossible.”

 

Scott takes a second. He feels the anxiety pooling low in him, a fight or flight response telling him to get _the fuck off the phone go be alone sit alone Corey can’t help you and telling him will make him think you are mad._ He swallows and tries to quiet the voice.

 

“Scotty. You can talk to me, it’s ok,” Corey’s speaking low into the phone, the same comforting voice he whispers into Scott’s ears with when they fuck, sometimes. A low seduction; it distracts Scott for a second.

 

“I…” He almost speaks, chickens out at the last second. Corey is quiet, still smiling softly. Scott can see his image in the top corner of the screen; he looks grim.

 

“Look, don’t…don’t think I’m mad, ok?”

 

Corey’s eyes soften almost immediately, “I don't think you’re mad.”

 

“I’m…struggling with my anxiety today. It feels like I’m drowning. I don’t know why.” 

 

“Yeah? Tell me about it.”

 

Scott closes his eyes. “I dunno. I just feel like I’m drowning in it. It’s so overwhelming today. Hasn’t been this bad in a while.”

 

“Anything trigger it?”

 

“No I’m just…anxious. About existing, I guess.”

 

“What can I do?”

 

“Talking about it is helping,” Scott says, and it’s true. He’s feeling the grip release on the pit of his stomach. Neither of them know how to fix it, but talking seems to be a start. “I’d like to be distracted from it, I guess. I can’t sleep.”

 

“I could come over?” Corey says hopefully, “I’m good at distracting you.”

 

Scott laughs, “I guess you are. Yeah. Yeah, come over.”

 

 

As Scott steps out of the shower, the buzzer of his apartment rings. He lifts the receiver, and lets Corey up. He’s filled with a kind of nervous energy; sitting alongside the anxiety is a quiet thrum of excitement. He likes it when Corey comes over. Corey always knows how to make him feel good.

 

Corey knocks on the door and Scott lets him in. He’s smiling, looking that loose, casual way he does when Scott likes him best. He watches Corey’s eyes travel up his body, remembering he’s still in a towel.

 

“Can I get you anything?” Scott says.

 

“No, I’m ok,” Corey smiles coyly, “Did you have a distraction in mind?”

 

Scott feels nervous to ask for what he wants. He’s into sex, he just doesn’t know how to ask.

 

It’s like Corey can sense the anxiety creeping in as he says, “You don't have to worry, we can do anything you want,” He places his hands on Scott’s wet hips, “even if that’s just watching TV.”

 

Scott stoops down slowly, pressing his lips deliberately against Corey’s, “Please,” he whispers into Corey’s mouth, “just make me feel good.”

 

He feels Corey shiver beneath his fingertips, placed gently against his ribs.

 

“I can do that,” he says, kissing Scott.

 

 

 

Corey sits between his legs, moving his hands slowly along Scott’s sides and stomach as he lowers himself down to kiss him. It’s slow and passionate, their tongues flicking and sliding along each others with quickening passion. Corey tilts Scott’s head to suck at his ear lobe, kissing his way along his jaw as he goes.

 

Corey is in control, and Scott is grateful for it. It’s all he wants. To lie there, and let Corey make him feel good, to replace the tension with the release of an orgasm.

 

He gasps as Corey’s teeth graze his earlobe and he sucks harder. Scott can feel his hips rising involuntarily off the bed; he’s getting hard, and if he moves his hips high enough, he can rub his dick on Corey’s, already fully hard in his boxers. He wants to grind up on him desperately, he wants the sweet, delicious friction, but Corey pushes his hips down and whispers low in his ear, “Not yet, handsome.”

 

Scott whines. He wants it so bad. But Corey is in control. Corey will give him what he wants.

 

Corey brings his head up and smiles at him, running his finger from Scott’s jaw to his mouth, placing it at his lips. Scott opens his mouth instinctively to suck on it, running his tongue along the length of Corey’s long, slender finger before sucking hard.

 

He watches as Corey’s eyes roll upwards and he bites his lip. He’s always loved that face when it’s twisted in sweet agony, which serves as such a constant source of inspiration on long, lonely nights on his own. It’s no different now, and seeing it so close, so real makes his cock twitch hard.

 

Corey smiles, “You’re so good,” he says, and takes his finger from Scott’s mouth to glide it down his breastbone and over his nipple. He pinches, soft at first, getting progressively harder. It makes Scott gasp and arch; he bites his lip instinctively. 

 

“No,” Corey says from above him, “I want to hear you. C’mon, let me hear you take it.”

 

Scott releases his lip and gasps. The noise comes off as overly pornographic, like something he heard in a porno and feels the need to try in person, but he loves the feeling of Corey’s deft fingers twisting and pulling his nipples. It hurts so good, and carries with it an electric jolt that goes directly to his cock.

 

“That’s it Scotty, you sound so good. You like that, yeah?” Corey’s speaking in a low drawl, and Scott is vaguely conscious of the feeling of boxer fabric rubbing against his; Corey must be enjoying himself.

 

“Fuck, yeah, more, please,” the words spill from Scott before he even realises his mouth is open.

 

Corey leans over him, into the dresser drawer, where he knows there’s lube and condoms, because Scott’s nothing if not prepared.

  
“Can I take these off?” Corey says, motioning at his boxers.

 

“Yeah, yeah,” Scott is flustered, he wants more, he can’t fucking wast for Corey to touch his cock, it’s fucking aching for him.

 

He lifts his hips and slowly, painfully slowly, Corey slides his boxers off, letting Scott’s erection catch on the waistband and spring free, making his hips buck hard as his hard cock hits his stomach.

 

“Fuck, Corey, please,” he says, as Corey slows down and sits, watching him. Drinking him in.

 

Corey takes the lube and coats his fingers, “Put a pillow under your hips, gorgeous.”

 

Scott does as he’s told. He takes a pillow from the other side of the bed, and slots it under his hips. He parts his legs expectantly, starting at Corey as he ensures his fingers are thoroughly coated in the lube.

 

Corey shuffles on his knees towards Scott, and places his legs at either side of his hips, “We’ll start off with one finger, ok?”

 

Scott nods, “yeah, do it, c’mon.” He’s so fucking desperate for Corey to fuck him.

 

Long, slim fingers move to Scott’s ass, a fingertip moving from his perineum and sliding down over his hole. Scott feels a finger push slowly inside him. Corey smiles.

 

“I thought you didn’t know what you wanted?” He begins moving his finger in and out, slowly.

 

“I - ah,” Scott grips the bedsheets beneath him, “I knew I wanted you to fuck me.”

 

Corey laughs, “So what, you were in the shower, fingering yourself, thinking of me? Getting ready for me to fuck you?”

 

“Yeah,” Scott pants, “wanted to be ready for you.”

 

“So if I give you two fingers, you can take it?” Corey’s staring at him, fingers still moving slowly in and out.

 

“Give me two, please, I can take it,” Scott whines.

 

He feels Corey’s finger leave him, and replaced with two. He feels greedy, and already wants more.

 

“Tell me,” Corey whispers, thrusting his fingers in deeper with a twist, “tell me what you were thinking about in the shower.”

 

Scott groans, “Was thinking about this.”

 

Corey stops, “Tell me more or I’ll take them out. Detail, come on.”

 

“I,” Scott pants hard, the thoughts he was concentrating so hard on in the shower rushing back to him, “I was thinking about…about you bending me over the sofa, the time…” he grunts as Corey twists his fingers deep inside his ass, almost as if he can anticipate what Scott wants to say, “the time you held my shoulder and fuck…and fucked me against the sofa…Corey, fuck.”

 

“You want a third finger, gorgeous? Tell me the rest, I know that’s not all you were thinking about,” Corey says, turning his fingers again to find Scott’s prostate.

 

“Was thinking…thinking about you cumming inside me, feeling you fill me up, oh fuck, Corey, fuck,” Scott’s panting, he’s forgetting how to speak as Corey’s fingers glance against his prostate.

 

“You want me to cum inside you, Scott?” He feels Corey’s fingers pull out and back in, three fingers this time. Scott gasps at the fullness of it.

 

“Yeah, Corey, please, please, want you to fuck me,” Scott says, balling his fists hard in to the sheets as his knuckles turn white.

 

“Not yet handsome, I think you can take more fingers. Do you want more fingers?”

 

Scott doesn’t care. He wants something, anything, whatever Corey will give him. “Yes, please, please,” 

 

He feels Corey stretch out his fingers inside him, pushing his hole open wider. It’s sore, he had only prepped with two fingers, but the discomfort subsides into pleasure that makes him plead to Corey for more.

 

Corey leans down to kiss Scott, fingers still inside him, “You ok, Scott?” he whispers in Scott’s ear.

 

“Yes, more, come on, I can take it, please!” Scott’s getting impatient now, he wants fucked. He wants to feel so full of Corey’s cock he can’t help but cum, but Corey has other ideas in mind.

 

Corey laughs, “One more. Then I’ll fuck you if you can take it, ok?”

 

Scott hisses and nods, “come on, please, now!”

 

The four fingers slide in slow as Corey works against the pressure of his muscles. “Relax Scott, come on.”

 

But Scott can’t relax, he wants fucked. He swallows hard, taking in a gulp of air and trying to relax his tight muscles.

 

“That’s it handsome, you can take it,” Corey says, and finally, he’s speared on the four fingers, a sensation that’s almost too full, almost too much and at the same time completely perfect.

 

Corey fucks him slowly with his fingers, in and out, deliberately missing Scott’s prostate and instead just letting him concentrate on the feeling of fullness, riding out the sweet feeling of being stretched almost too far.

 

“You ready for my cock, Scott? You ready for me to fuck you?” Corey growls at him.

 

Scott nods, sounds a harsh “yes,” and Corey quickly withdraws his fingers. The feeling is so much; Scott gasps and screws his eyes shut as the feeling of emptiness consumes him. He craves Corey’s cock inside him, he wants that fullness back.

 

He watches as Corey slips on a condom, his cock as hard and aching as Scott’s, and slicks himself with more lube.

 

“You ready, handsome?” Corey says, kneeling over one of Scott’s legs as he puts the other on his shoulder. Scott knows this move. He’s going to fuck him deep, so deep he’s not sure he’s going to be able to stand in goals for a whole game. But fuck, he’s so ready, he can’t wait any longer.

 

“Yeah, fuck me Corey, please,” Scott pants desperately.

 

He feels Corey’s cock, thick and hard, press inside him, and he starts to move. Scott throws his head back; he’s missed this. He loves this fucking feeling. Corey makes him feel so hot, so full.

 

“No, Scott, look at me, come on, watch me fuck you,” Corey says, punctuation the words with hard thrusts that hit Scott’s prostate hard. He feels the orgasm crawling every closer, the pleasure ever greater.

 

He moves his head back, locking eyes with Corey, who bites his lip and snarls as he fucks Scott harder.

 

“Touch yourself, Scott, come on, I want to see you,” Corey pants, thrusting hard.

 

Scott takes his hands from the sheets and licks his right palm, moving his hands down quickly, one to cup his aching balls, and the other finally, finally to his hard cock. He moves quickly, gripping his balls almost too hard and moving his fist rapidly.

 

Corey groans at the sight of him, splayed out and desperate. He fucks harder, pulling Scott’s leg in to meet his hard thrusts. Scott moans, he’s so fucking close.

 

“I’m so close,” Corey growls, “you gonna cum for me gorgeous?”

 

“Cum inside me,” Scott says, almost crying from the pleasure, “please, please.”

 

Corey cums with that, the begging pushing him hard over the edge into bliss. He thrusts through his orgasm, and watching his chest tighten and jaw slacken is all Scott needs to bring him to orgasm. He cums, painting his chest with great streams of pearlescent cum, as the feeling of Corey’s cock still in him begins to become more of an overstimulation in his fluttering hole.

 

Corey shucks his softening cock from Scott, deals with the condom quickly and flops at his side, glistening with sweat. “God,” he pants.

 

“Yeah,” Scott agrees, he feels gross, cum and sweat drying quickly on his chest.

 

“Feeling better yet?” Corey says with a smile.

 

“Yeah,” Scott says through harsh breaths.

 

“Can you say anything but ‘yeah’?”

 

“Yeah,” Scott says again, and laughs.

 

They bask in the afterglow of their orgasm a little, Scott painfully aware of his need for a shower but reluctant to move. He notices eventually that the feeling of anxiety that was wrapped hard around his gut before has subsided, and is nothing more than a residual trace. He smiles.

 

“Thank you,” he says eventually, “that was a good distraction.”

 

“Oh, any time handsome,” Corey smiles, and kisses him softly.


End file.
